| Jack and Gillian, facing their decline
|
| Take to the dance floor for one final time
|
| Who’d deny them this last shot?
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| Taking a twirl, are they in the final reel or not?
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| Jack and Gillian, walking hand in hand
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| Disappearing along the shining strand
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| Who’d deny them this state of grace?
|
| So we find them with not a single hair out of place
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| Picture-perfect, matching pace for pace
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| Her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist
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| But if you put them on the spot, what would they say?
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| Are they in the final reel or what?
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| Sayonara, tschüss, adieu, farewell
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| Will we meet again? |
| No one can tell
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| Not the manner, not the time
|
| No one can hide, no one leaves the final reel behind
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| Jack turns to Gillian, misty-eyed
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| And presses the pills in her hand
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| All they’ve got left is the downhill slide
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| So they’d better act while they can
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| This much they know
|
| They’re not in the final reel alone
|
| This much they know
|
| They’ll not leave the final reel alone
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| They take the dive
|
| No one leaves the final reel alive
|
| They take the dive
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| No one leaves the final reel alive |